Flowers Before Pomegranates
by Lothlorienx
Summary: Some ficlet drabble stories centered around Hades and Persephone.
1. In Which Persephone Is Not Zeus's Child

**Flowers Before Pomegranates**

 _In Which Persephone Is Not Zeus's Child_

Persephone may have been Zeus's child, but she was not his daughter. Not his offspring. Let the hymns sing what they will, let the scrolls say what they will, let the storytellers weave a new version every night to those who gathered round to here the stories of the gods. He was not her father, and she was not his daughter. But he still claimed her as his child. Zeus was god of all, father of all, and thus claimed Persephone as his own, as he did with everything and everyone.

Almost everyone, at least.

And so Persephone was known as a child of Zeus, despite the fact that they had no connection other than their shared status as gods.

Zeus did not call her daughter. He did not call her anything. He probably didn't even know of her existence. Demeter kept Persephone far away from the gods, from both Mount Olympus and anyone she didn't see fit to look upon her daughter. Which was almost no one.

Save for the nymphs, Persephone had practically no one.

She wandered the earth, unable to be seen by mortals by pain of them unto them, but still the mortals knew of her. Somehow.

Demeter could hide away Persephone all she wanted to, but the mortals knew of her existence. Goddess of Life, Goddess of Spring. Goddess who must not be known. But the mortals didn't know everything.

She was not Zeus's daughter.

She was a child of the gods, and thus a child of Zeus, but she was not his daughter.

Demeter and Zeus had slept together, there was no denying that. On multiple occasions, even, much to the fury of Hera. But Hera's rage extended only so far, and Demeter shared his bed unharmed many, many nights before she grew tired of him. Zeus could easily seduce with his shapeshifting, but he had a shit personality, and Demeter saw through the illusions he gave her every night. Disgust and distaste crossed her face, and she gathered her robes and leather sandals and left, wanting nothing more to do with him.

Hera was thrilled to see her go.

As Demeter passed Hera, she heard Hera whisper a curse. Demeter ignored it; she had said worse things to her.

Persephone's father, instead, was the very earth itself. Demeter, goddess of the harvest and fertility, grew the seeds herself. Up from the earth sprouted a grain, seeds glistening white from the fragile stalk that lifted up from the soil. Demeter harvested this herself. She took the harvest, pulling the seeds from the plant and putting them inside of her. She closed her legs and went to the nearest temple, all the while feeling the seeds shift inside her.

In the temple of Demeter, she waited, focused purely on her own fertility. Inside of her, she felt the grain seeds become liquid and she pressed her legs tighter together. She stayed in the temple for three days and three nights, and by the time the full moon rose on the third night, she knew she had conceived.

She felt the baby like a root in her body, stretching down into the soil of her womb, and Demeter waited another three nights before she left.

And thus, Persephone was born.


	2. In Which Hades Feels a Change

_In Which Hades Feels a Change_

Hades hadn't any soot or kohl along his eyes, and yet the edges of his eyes were darkened black nonetheless. Pale white skin covered him, desperate and vying for the sun, but at this point in time Hades knew that the sun would have burned him. In fact, he had everything a handsome man should have. Granted, his eyes were a bit took dark and far more intimidating, and his fingers too sharp, and perhaps the black of his hair had turned a bit too brown, but still he was handsome.

Brown hair or not. And here he thought he would always have black hair. Century after century it had endured, deep and dark as the depths he stared into every night. His fingers ran through it, wondering at the change.

"Something will happen today," he told Cerberus.

The beast lifted it's three heads and looked at him, red eyes curious. He sniffed, three noses twitching, before closing his sleepy eyes and going back to sleep on the black rug he lay on.

Hades shook his head.

"If not today, then within a week, or a month. It's not like I have any shortage on time." Hades looked from the black balcony to over the river of souls and the void that surrounded him. Endless. Forever. Until deathless Kronos had died and put an end to time itself. "No shortage on time at all."

He could feel it, somewhere in his bones. Change.

Who was the god of change? Hades didn't know, things such as names having slipped his mind in the monotonous work below the earth, but perhaps he'd have to have a word with them...if ever he could make it to Olympus. Not only would it be foolish to leave the Underworld, but Olympus was full of vengeful gods, most of whom would not exactly be happy to see him.

Hades has come for his brother's throne, he could almost hear them whispering.

And the goddess of discourse, whatever her name was, would no doubt fuel the fire. Zeus and his lightning and thunder would light up the sky, his rage apparent to any mortal who dare gaze up. To any mortal who dare lay awake. Zeus was like that; selfish, foolish, impatient, rash, hateful, spiteful, temperamental. His wrath knew no bounds, and it was the only thing greater than his lust.

And Zeus's wife and queen-her name escaped him as well-had sent far too many mortals down to the Underworld, their souls carried on the river of death. Her wrath matched her husband's in all but name, and for that, they were the perfect match.

Or at least the mortals seemed to think so.

Hades didn't think so. He viewed their marriage as toxic. If they hated each other, as they appeared to, and Zeus cheated so much, and Hera was prone to fits of rage and jealousy, and their love life made them nothing but scornful and unhappy, then what was the point in being married?

Hades had wondered this often after he had first met the queen, his brother's bride, and concluded that no marriage should be like that. Mortal or god, no marriage should be unhappy.

And Hera and Zeus were the very definition of an unhappy marriage.

Hades shook his head again, lost in thought as he was. He had decided, long ago after he had left Mount Olympus all those centuries ago, that if he did marry it would be for love...and that it would be a happy marriage.

That he swore.


	3. In Which Flowers Whisper

_In Which Flowers Whisper_

Cerberus lifted his three great heads off of the ground, sniffing the air curiously. This was not the normal scent of the underworld, of the cold and the dead. It did not stink, for there were hardly any bodies; only souls and sullied spirits.

"What is it?" Hades asked Cerberus, not looking up from his scrolls.

He wasn't busy, but he still didn't feel the need to entertain Cerberus's curiosity. He glanced to the side, watching the great beast sniff the air, standing up on its legs and trotted a ways away. Hades looked back down at his scrolls. Perhaps an escaping spirit was on the wander and Cerberus was after them. That's what normally happened.

Hades ran a hand through his brown hair.

Then, a long howl sounded through the cavernous depths of the Underworld. Hades looked up from his scrolls, getting onto his feet and walked down the stone corridors that Cerberus had gone through.

"What is the howling for?" he wondered to himself. He wasn't in the habit of thinking quietly, for there really was no point. Even Thanatos and the Shades didn't really bother to keep quiet; it was the only source of noise they could get in the lifeless hell they lived in.

"Cerberus!" Hades called out, and then stopped short.

The dog trotted along happily next to a woman. The woman was not mortal, Hades knew. Mortal women were worlds different from goddesses or demi-goddesses or nymphs. She wore a drape of white and gold, but her clothes seemed a dull, dreary gray down in the Underworld. Not even the gold edging on her robes glinted.

"Hades," said the goddess as she saw him, standing at the end of the corridor.

She held a flower in her hand.

"Yes," he replied. Had his voice always been so rough? He didn't know, but he did know that his voice was harsh and cold in comparison to hers. He hadn't spoken kindly to anyone in centuries, and it was evident on his tongue. Still, he didn't try to soften his voice or brighten his words. "I am Hades. You are?"

"Persephone," she replied.

She walked up to him, standing as close as she dared. Hades was almost a head taller than her, so she had to crane her head back to see him properly. Hades looked down at her, somewhat bewildered. He was about to ask her what she was doing down here in the Underworld when she held up the flower.

"You sent this?" she asked him.

Hades looked down at the flower. Dark green stems that were almost black, though no thorns studded the vines. Enormous leaves that were soft and velvety to the touch. And wide petals, deep blue with purple veins, extending from a berry red center, the pistol in the center reaching up and outwards, glinting like there was some sort of light on it. The waxen petals bloomed brighter in the outside world than here in the Underworld, it appeared.

"No," he plainly stated. "But that flower is from my garden; it escaped."

"Your flowers escaped?" Persephone asked. "You must not treat them very well," she stated, looking at him accusingly. She pulled the flower close to her chest, as if trying to protect it from him.

"I whisper to them," Hades told her. "They grow from my voice, my words. I haven't spoken anything ill to them at all, and I speak to them quite often."

"Your voice isn't the most pleasant, though," Persephone stated.

Hades arched an eyebrow. "It's never bothered them before."

Persephone and Hades stared at each other for a long time...minutes perhaps, since gods had no real concept of time. Maybe it had been days, but it felt like only seconds. Eventually, Persephone put the flower in his hand, the dark green stems circling his palm and forearm, and left.

Cerberus watched her leave. He gave a low whine in his throats as she made her way towards the ferry that docked on the shore. The rivers of blood glowed bleakly at him, and when Persephone pulled her long skirt up to climb into the boat, assisted by the skeletal hand of Charon, Hades glimpsed at her ankles. Hades turned away as Persephone and the ferryman made their way silently across the rivers, and sighed.

Hades looked down at the flower in his hands.

"Why?" he whispered, his voice like a snake's.

"You looked lonely," the plant whispered back, its leaves shivering.

Hades clenched his jaw, and walked back to the gardens, meaning to return the flower. Its roots went deep into the thin black soil, and the once blossoming petals started to wither away as it took its home back in the Underworld.

"Do not leave again," Hades warned, his voice raspy and sinister.

A slight "Sssssssssssss," was all he got in return.


	4. In Which the Gods are Insane

_In Which the Gods are Insane_

The gods were crazy. All of them. Everyone of them. There was no dancing around this. Persephone knew it in her bones, and the flowers around her whispered it from the moment they bloomed.

The gods were crazy.

Their only salvation was the fact that Zeus hadn't fathered as many children as he thought he had. Sure, he'd had lovers...so many lovers. Lovers that could drown the sea and reach the sky with their numbers. By as for his actual children, the ones spawned from his own seed? Very, very few.

Hera had once told Persephone that.

Zeus's children were few enough that you could count them on one hand, if your hand had seven fingers. Sure, he'd had more than seven, but Hera had killed so many of them before or immediately after birth that in her eyes, they didn't count. Only seven lived, only seven were important.

But Zeus had to be the father of so many gods and goddesses, demigods and demigoddesses didn't he? Well, short answer: no. He was father of them all, but far more turned to Gaia or Oceanus or even Uranus in the sky. But still they were crazy.

The gods had blood, golden ichor flowing in mystical veins, and their bloodlines were all far too close to each other for them not to be crazy. But it was a sad fact of life. If they hadn't pure ichor blood in them, then they wouldn't be true gods. At the very least, Persephone was glad that she was not as crazy as the others.

She saw Zeus, how he had acted, someone who claimed to be her father in all respects. He was nearly insane. Persephone stayed far away from him. She stayed far away from Mount Olympus altogether, much to her mother's happiness.

She didn't want to make her mother unhappy, for her mother could make her life hell if she was displeased, but Persephone's true reason was that Mount Olympus was not a good place to be. Mortals could romanticize it all they wished; idolize that they all walked on clouds and drank the wine of the heavens and ate the fruit of divinity.

They did, somewhat, but no one knew how hostile it was up there. Far too many gods had been thrown from the mountains just for sport. They'd always get up again, dust themselves off, and then go seeking revenge.

Persephone was just fine wandering the forests. The nymphs kept her company, and she loved their company far more than she loved anyone else's. They were nice, kind, sweet. More than that. Their smiles were like the sun, and their voices like the rivers. They were as welcoming as an ocean breeze on a summer's day, and they were nothing like the gods.

She slept with them in the trees and in tall grasses and in flowery meadows. She sung their songs, danced with them in pale moonlight, talked with them for long hours.

Persephone was bored with them, sometimes. She had spent centuries with them. Three centuries to be exact, and she could only live the same life so much. The days were all monotonous, bleeding into each other, all a daze of the same old thing.

Same shit, different day, Persephone thought to herself more and more.

The nymphs were fine, but they could only entertain so much.

So when a flower of the Underworld sprung at her feet, whispering of dark deeds and the depths of Hades and the overwhelming shadows that fought the escaping spirits, Persephone picked up the flower and listened to its stories. It was nice to have this dark, whispering companion, and though she thought it somewhat frightening at times, she still kept it with her. If not, the flower followed her.

She told no one about the flower, and none of the nymphs noticed.


	5. In Which Cerberus is Still a Puppy

_In Which Cerberus is Still a Puppy_

Cerberus was still young, by immortal standards. He was sometimes wild and unruly, so when Cerberus trotted along the banks of the rivers, splashing about the water carelessly and without a thought to any potential damage, Hades could only shake his head and sigh.

Charon hissed at the dog, which made all three heads growl in turn. The ferryman's long oar came up out of the water, souls moaning screaming like rasping, whirring wind.

"Back!" Charon hissed, the oar meaning to strike the dog.

Cerberus dodged the oar, but growled again, showing rows upon rows of deadly sharp teeth, and when Charon made to hit him again, Cerberus caught the oar in his teeth and snapped it like a twig. The splinters rained down upon the bloody river, and phantom hands reached out for the splinters as if they were some kind of salvation.

"Charon," Hades said, approaching the ferryman reluctantly.

Charon could hear in Hades's voice that he was both tired and irritated. Charon pulled the hood of his robe up higher over his head, as if that could shield him from his wrath. Hades's dark eyes lingered upon him, rage written into the irises.

"Do not waste another oar," Hades told him. "Fetch a new one. Cerberus will, go back to the gates and guard them."

Hades beckoned for Cerberus to walk off back to the gates where he should be at his post, faithfully on the lookout for any escapees. The dog did, trotting along happily, though fragments of souls dripped from his teeth and gums. Only in the quiet could you hear their anguish.

"Youth and Death do not mix," Hades said aloud, thinking on this.

"Not well, at least," Charon croaked, holding his splintered oar like it was a sword.

Babies and children and maidens all came rushing into the Underworld, but Hades had eventually thought that they were far too young to have died. But, that had been long, long, long ago in his first decades of the Ruler of the Underworld, and at such sights his heart had grown cold. Death touches everyone, no matter how young, no matter how old. Let the rivers be filled with youth, it no longer seemed to matter to him.

But living youth, that was something else entirely.

Cerberus shook his giant heads, freeing the soul fragments and scattering them on the ground. Hades looked on coldly at the mist upon the black stone floor, slowly dissipating with time. They faded, their voices faded, and they were gone, having slithered off into some nethervoid beyond Hades's care.

Hades spun on his heel and walked off, leaving Charon to his own accord. He didn't say anything about it, but he was glad for little distractions like these. It was something to keep life interesting in the Underworld. It freed him of the same mind-numbing, thought-stilling, boring, and monotonous job that he had been tasked with.

Silently, secretly, deep within his soul, he wished for something more than what he was and what he had.

The flowers whispered this.


	6. In Which Persephone Says Yes

_In Which Persephone Says Yes_

"Hades..." whispered his flowers.

He didn't stop, but merely kept along at a leisurely stroll, ignoring the ghostly flowers that grew from the sooty black soil. They always did that, whenever he passed. They recognized the Lord of the Underworld when he passed, and their whispers were of reverence.

"Hades..." they all hissed and whispered, their voices amplified in the quiet darkness. "Hadesssss...Hadesssss..."

But there was one flower that caught his attention. One with black stems and waxen petals, one flower that looked far too much alive to be in the Underworld. It was healthy looking, with large petals, and it's voice was different. It carried with it Persephone's voice.

"You've been in the Upper World," Hades realized. None of the flowers responded, and so Hades kept walking. But then, the flower with Persephone's voice, hissed and whispered something that caught his attention. He stilled his steps, his ears soaking in the words. "She says yes."


	7. In Which Persephone Is a Woman

_In Which Persephone Is a Woman_

Ichor pooled between Persephone's legs as the summer moon rose high in the sky, completely full. It's great round face illuminated the meadow that she walked in as she felt the ichor wet the menstrual rag. She held her hand close to her stomach, though she did not feel any cramps.

Such pain was beyond that of goddesses.

Still, her steps were slow and her eyes seemed unfocused. She remembered long ago when she had first got her moon blood-or rather, her moon ichor-that Demeter had wailed for days. Such a sign meant that she was no longer a little girl, but a woman fully grown then.

Poor Demeter, Persephone thought to herself. Then, she quickly took back the thought. She didn't think Demeter deserved pity; Persephone was growing, not dying. And Demeter, she recalled with a hint of scorn, had kept her hidden away for so long. Do not go here, do not go there, stay away from him, stay away from them. Persephone had grown tired of the rules.

Demeter was overbearing and quick to anger, and she had been on Persephone's nerves longer than she cared to admit. She loved her mother, yes, but for the love of the gods, she wanted her to back off.

Let her live, let her grow, let her become her own person.

Persephone was a woman.

She was a goddess.

She was not a child. The ichor between her legs was proof of that.

Nymphs danced near Persephone in the meadow, though they didn't look her way. Persephone didn't much feel like joining in their dance; she had followed the movements over a hundred times that decade. So she walked away from them, letting their song reach her ears in soft fragments.

She pretended that she was alone.

The farther away she walked, the easier it got to pretend. Until she found herself so far away that the dancing nymphs were only a speck in the distance. The meadow was wide and open, and she could see for miles every which way. The nymphs were so small to her, and she wondered how far away she could get before they noticed she was gone.

Persephone walked even further away.

Her ichor blood flowed steadily.

A hiss and a breath stirred at her feet, the sound dancing in her ears. Persephone looked down at her bare feet that peeked out from beneath her chiton, and directly in front of it grew the narcissus flower from the Underworld. Its leaves shivered as if it were cold, and its petals glowed under the full moonlight.

Persephone knelt down to hear the whispers better.

It was only wordless chatter, if chattering was what you could call it. Persephone leaned even closer, but still she could not make out a single word. Only breathy rasps came from the flower, and try and try as she might, Persephone knew that the flower spoke only gibberish.

Still, Persephone could not simply leave it. Not when there was a mystery to be unravelled. She desired to know, what it whispered. Surely it must make sense, if only she could hear it better.

She reached down and plucked the whispering flower from the ground.

"She says yes," the flower whispered.

Persephone screamed in surprise as a black chariot leapt from the earth, dirt and flowers exploding around her and flying all around. The wheels landed with a heavy thud, and she heard the neighing of dead horses.

Persephone looked around, dazed and confused and slightly frightened, but all that vanished when she saw Hades atop the chariot. Her face softened again as she looked at him.

"Hades?" she asked, to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing.

"Yes," he answered dryly.

Before Persephone could say anything more, he held out a hand to her. Persephone's hand rose, but she hesitated, not knowing whether or not she should grab it. Hades did not wait, but reached forward and clutched her hand in his fist, and pulled her atop the chariot.

Persephone didn't know what to make of it all, it was happening so fast. Before she knew it, the earth below her had split wide open into an enormous crack, like the plates of the earth broken after an earthquake. Then, the chariot plunged down into the darkness, Persephone becoming blind to all around her, and she saw the last traces of moonlight fade as the earth above her closed up and swallowed them both.


	8. In Which Persephone Is Taken

_In Which Persephone Is Taken to the Underworld_

Persephone could not see a single thing in the darkness, so she had to go by her other senses. All nine of them. She felt Hades next to her, sensed him next to her. She breathed deep his scent, and she thought he smelled like dry, infertile soil and very faintly of lavender...strange as it was.

She shifted closer to him on the chariot as they rode along the darkness, making their way down into the Underworld. He was warm, but then again the air around her was so cold and she did not wear much. Her chiton was lightweight and floaty around her, providing very little heat. Hades had a cloak about his shoulders, dark and heavy, and Persephone pulled at the edge and tried to wrap it around her shoulder as best as she could. Hades seemed to notice her chill, and he wrapped a single arm around her, pulling her close to him in an embrace.

Compared to the cold of the Underworld, his skin was like summer.

"What are you doing?" Persephone managed to ask at last.

"Taking you down to Hades," he replied. Neither of them say another word more.

As they rode, light slowly filled the cavernous Underworld that they sped through. Or perhaps that was only her goddess eyes adjusting to the dark and lighting the view ahead of her. As Persephone looked around, nestled into his arm and under his cloak, she saw that the Underworld wasn't all black and gray. There was color. Dark, deep jewel tones that never would have appeared in the Upper World.

"Beautiful," she whispered, when she saw the blood red river to the west of them. But more than that; apparently diamonds were sometimes embedded into the rock, other times ores of silver and copper, other times flecks of gold in granite. The Underworld was dark and made of stone, but the obsidian and granite and iron ore was truly beautiful.

"I am glad you believe so," Hades said, and Persephone detected some hint of warmth in his voice. "For this will be your new home."

"Will it now?" Persephone asked.

"Yes," Hades replied. "You said yes."

"Did I?" Persephone asked. "To what?" Hades didn't respond, so Persephone continued speaking. "I don't ever recall saying yes to anything, much less to anything you might have proposed."

Hades remained quiet beside her.

Then, "You don't seem to put up a protest now."

"No," Persephone said, and buried her fingers into his cloak. "But we shall see."


	9. In Which the Underworld Blooms

_In Which the Underworld Blooms_

Rotted, withered apples ripened at her feet. Their dried brown skin swelled into rich reds that seemed to glow in the Underworld. Leaves that had crumbled blew away from her feet like the wind had summoned them away, and new fresh green leaves grew in their place, the stems of the apples long and thick.

But she left them, and they soon withered again once she was gone. But the leaves didn't turn to dust this time.

Hades walked behind Persephone the entire time. Persephone didn't feel self-conscious in the least, though she knew she probably should. Hades walked behind her, analyzing her, watching her every movement, and staring at the back of her flaming red head as though trying to read her thoughts. Persephone still didn't flinch though.

She was a goddess, not a craven. Whenever she felt somewhat scared or hesitant, she would feel the ichor between her legs and remind herself of what she was. A woman with her moon blood, and a goddess with golden ichor. She was not afraid.

When she finally came to the steps of the Palace, her bare feet upon the cold stone of the steps, she stopped. She wasn't scared, but overwhelmed? Yes, that was it. She sighed and turned around, looking back at Hades. Since she stood on the steps, and Hades upon the ground, she was just as tall as him now.

"Does it please you?" Hades asked.

Persephone studied him. He was pale, and his beard wasn't even there but for a shadow. Eyes dark and sooty, though they weren't lined with kohl, and long dark hair that looked almost brassy if she stared at it long enough. He was tall, and though he looked to be in good physical shape he was not altogether muscular, and his body had the occasional sharp angles. His chin, his elbows, his fingers, for example. Even his collarbones looked harsh. But was by no means thin, though. Not a gaunt looking skeleton.

"Yes," Persephone replied. She spoke both of the Underworld and of him.

Hades sensed this, and a small smile graced his face. In the Upper World, Hades's smile would have gone unnoticed, but here in the dark it shone like nothing else.

"The flowers lied," Hades whispered, "so I will have to ask you myself."

Persephone waited as he paused. He was quiet for a long time, as if trying to build up his courage. Persephone was patient as he shuffled his eyes up over her head and to the sides of her face. His eyes rested on her cheek, golden brown skin with a rosy blush on it, and his hand lifted up to stroke her cheek. His fingers were rough, but not as sandpaper like she'd been expecting.

"Would you like to see the Palace?" Hades asked.

Persephone had to stifle a laugh. She knew this was not what he'd meant to ask, and Hades knew that she knew. But neither of them said either of it. Persephone swallowed her mirth, and said, "Yes. Please show me."


	10. In Which Persephone Holds a Sword

_In Which Persephone Holds a Sword_

There is a sword behind Persephone's back as she talks to him. She does not touch it, but she knows that it is there. Her fingers twitch, but it is not for the feel of celestial bronze against her skin, but rather out of nervousness, out of excitement.

If Hades knows about the sword behind Persephone's back, he does not let on. He does not mention it, and his eyes never once flick down.

Persephone does not know it yet, but she has claimed the sword as her own. No one knows it yet, but there is now a tether between them, an invisible string that binds them.

It is not the only string on her finger.

Persephone twitches her fingers behind her back as Hades stands there, looking down at her and then looking away, speaking about all the Underworld as if it were the finest place in all of the cosmos. The Fields of Elysium are never finer than when you are here, he tells her, a small smile gracing his normally-frowning face. The River Lethe flows faster, and the water now almost makes a sound...like a fresh brook in a meadow. The River Styx welcomes you, the Fields of Punishment no longer reaches us with its cries of torment, and it was as if it were no longer there.

Even Tartarus does not seem as weighty a name with her around.

Persephone smiles, and brings her hands to the front of her. Hades takes her hands in his own. There is no red string there, but the red string is supposed to be invisible anyways. Besides, such a string is the tellings of mortals, not of the gods. Persephone twitches her fingers, nonetheless, and Hades slides a thumb across the planes of her skin.

There is a glow in his eyes. Not an evil one, not even a supernatural one. A glow that is simple kindled from the fondness he feels for her.

They walk away, leaving the sword behind them.


	11. In Which Hades Is Silent

_In Which Hades Is Silent_

Hades does not ask her. Not for the longest time. Days pass as Persephone explores the Underworld. Hades sits on his throne yet again as Persephone makes her way through the Underworld, curious unto foolishness.

The River Lethe glistens in the darkness as she approaches. It does nothing more than that.

The narcissuses around her bloom fuller, white petals reaching out to her. Goddess of Spring, the all seem to whisper, their voice like a melancholy hiss. Goddess of Spring, Persephone, Goddess of Life.

She ignores the whispers, or tries to, anyway. She tries to block out their voices, their words, but still they reach her ears. She doesn't know how she feels about this. Her title, and her place in the Underworld. Something itches in the back of her mind, something that tells her she must ascend. Go up to the Upper World, where her mother will be waiting, and the meadows will be waiting, and the nymphs will be waiting.

Later, she thinks to herself.

She'd never been in the Underworld, and young Persephone was all too curious. She watched the River Lethe flow, slow and steady, waters glistening in her presence, and the faintest, faintest sound of bubbling like from a brook. There weren't any rocks jutting out from the river, so she didn't know how it made that sound. Even the banks had no waves, but rather just calm waters resting on the rocks. Not even the soil beneath the river's borders was fertile; the soil had forgotten that it was supposed to grow.

When she came back to the palace, hours later, she did not see Hades. He was busy at work, judging and sorting the souls that poured into the Underworld, no doubt. She didn't go looking for him. She wandered about the hallways and into rooms with urns spilling with whispered howls. She grew less nervous, she grew more nervous.

The Underworld was...strange...to say the least.

Persephone wandered about it with no sense or any real direction.

If she could map out the entirety of the Earth in her mind, she would be able to map out the entirety of the Underworld in due time.

But of course, that depended on how long she would stay down here.

She liked Hades, she knew that much. But did she want to stay down here with him? Did she want to marry him? Did she want to abandon the Earth above?

She meditated on this as she walked.


	12. In Which Hades Proposes

_In Which Hades Proposes_

Persephone was beautiful, there was no denying that. Her skin was bronzed from the sun, glowing, golden. Her skin was brown from the Earth that had given Demeter the seeds.

And her hair...her hair was ablaze. Bright, fiery red. Red like blood, red like flame. Red like roses, red like pomegranates. Hades studied her hair from afar. It was long, falling past her waist, and it was curly. It was stark against the darkness of the underworld. His palace was all dark, obsidian stone, black pillars and walls and floors.

A flower crown with blooming roses sat atop her hair, and a pale chiton covered her body.

Whenever she passed along the gardens, the flowers inclined their heads towards her. They nodded at her, and whispered at her. Persephone couldn't pick out which flower was the one who had whispered to her for so long on the Earth, acting as messenger between her and Hades for what must have been years.

Persephone turned to see Hades watching her.

Hades quickly ducked his head around and stalked away, wanting to give her her space. Persephone could see he was shy. It amused her somewhat. For so long, mortals had cowered in fear over him, cursed his name, whispered his name, fled in fear, painted him as bloodthirsty even. And yet, here he was; probably the kindest god she'd ever met.

A small smile graced her lips.

"Hades," she said, her words gentle.

Hades turned and looked at her. Upon seeing her smile, Hades returned her smile, the corners of his lips lifting until it passed as happiness.

Persephone was no empath. She didn't know if he was truly happy or not. But, to her, it looked that way. She could sense it, somehow. She felt no fear, but happiness when she was around him.

"Hades," she said again, striding forward until she was only a breath away from him.

"Your mother will hate me," he told her.

"My mother will forgive...in time..." Persephone replied, though she didn't know how honest her statement was.

"Hermes, Ares, Apollo...they will despise me," Hades told her.

"So what?" Persephone said with a small laugh. "What do you care? They are of no importance."

Hades's smile grew wider. Persephone could see how genuine it was. She put a thumb on his lower lip, wanting to feel his mirth on her fingertips. "Persephone," Hades said, swallowing his anxiety, "I wish for our hands to be joined."

"I accept," Persephone replied.


	13. In Which the Underworld Has No Stars

_In Which the Underworld Has No Stars_

Persephone stared up at the black stone ceilings, heaving a heavy sigh.

She and Hades had laid together for the first time, and a weariness had come down on her when they were done. He'd taken his time, had been gentle, had made sure that she felt comfortable, that she'd reached her moment of pleasure just as he had.

Now, she lay upon the black silken sheets, staring up at a black ceiling in a room in a palace with no roof, and wishing that she could see the stars. It felt lonely without the stars looking down on her, and she grew anxious at their absence.

Hades lay beside her, his hands crossed over his bare chest, his eyes half-closed, his breath slow and deep.

"Is something troubling you, my love?" Hades asked her.

"I miss the stars," Persephone said, after a couple of breaths. "I used to sleep beneath them every night, and now I am without them. I love the stars, and my world seems so empty without them."

Hades hummed, thinking over what she had said. "Is there nothing else you miss?" he asked her.

"Flowers grow in the gardens, shades accompany me when I wish, the dead spirits of forest dwelling creatures still walk up to me and rest their heads against my hands."

"But there is more to your world than that," Hades replied. He rolled over onto his side to look at her. Persephone felt his knee nudge her leg as he got comfortable. His hand came down to rest on her stomach, and Persephone put her own hand on top of his.

"I miss the moon...I miss the sun. I miss the warmth, I miss the ocean breeze, I miss the clouds. I...I miss my mother." The last words tasted odd on her tongue, but as she spoke them, Persephone knew they were the truth. She had wanted to get away from her mother, to live freely, to not constantly have her shadow cast over her life. Her mother was a pain, that much was true, but she did love her, and she did miss her. And she had not even been gone long.

It had only been a couple of months, a blink of an eye in immortal standards.

Persephone wondered how long it would take Demeter to notice that she was not upon the Earth.

"The Underworld takes much from us," Hades replied, and his eyes closed.

"Perhaps," Persephone said, and rolled over on her side to look at him. Their eyes met in the darkness, their fingers intertwined. "But it gave me you."


	14. In Which the Underworld Has Stars

_In Which the Underworld Has Stars_

A night sky made of obsidian stone, as dark as any night without the poison of light in the atmosphere. The darkness of the Underworld had some light in it, enough for them to see. Even the mortal souls in the fields could see in the dark underworld caves.

Hades commissioned it by Hecate.

"It will cost you," Hecate said, giving him a glare with a glow in her eyes.

"I do not care," Hades replied, his voice as calm as ever. After living a life as he had for the past few millennia, he found it difficult to be frightened or dismayed by anything. "Name your price," he said.

"I have nothing for you now," Hecate replied, her eyes darting up towards the ceiling. "But I will think of something...when I need it...a favor, perhaps." Underneath the hooded cloak that she wore, Hades could see her eyes sparkling. He didn't know what was happening in her brain, and he didn't want to know. Hecate was a mysterious goddess, even to him.

"I vow to you I will repay you when you will it." He paused. "And now...my request?"

Hecate raised her hands skywards, up towards the black black black ceiling, and closed her eyes. Hades could feel the change in the atmosphere around him, could feel Hecate working her magic, could feel the shift in the Underworld as gemstones were unearthed and brought to light.

Hades looked up towards the ceiling at the diamonds that were now exposed, cracking and shifting through the black obsidian ceiling and ashen stalactites to see them catch the light, constellations formed and mapped out. The entire Underworld was alight with the glow of stars for the first time since creation.

"I do hope Persephone will like it," Hades muttered to himself.

"Oh, trust me, your wife will like it," Hecate replied, lowering her hands and her hood. Hades saw the magic glow in her eyes, and though he did not look away, he felt the need to focus on something else. He held her gaze for a few moments before turning away.

He sought ought Persephone, who was kneeling in the gardens.

She had found the whispering flowers, and they hissed their stories and secrets to her, and she listened with a rapt ear. She heard Hades's footsteps as he slowly approached. She was looking down at the soil, and not up at the ceiling. Flowers and fruits all around the garden bloomed at her presence, and Hades saw that the gardens were more beautiful than they had ever been.

"All beauty pales in comparison to you," Hades told Persephone.

Without taking her eyes off the flowers she was growing, Persephone said, "A poetic tongue. I do love to hear you speak."

Hades stepped forward into the gardens. "Persephone, my wife," he said, extending her hand down to her. She took it, making her way onto her feet instead of kneeling on her knees.

"What is it, husband?" she asked him.

"Look up," he said.

Persephone tilted her head up and then gasped in delight. Thousands of diamonds and gemstones glittering, lighting up the underworld with their light. "Just like the stars," she whispered, awestruck.

Hades watched as she slowly took in everything, her eyes alight with joy and wonder. How beautiful she looked, Hades thought to himself. What had he ever done to be blessed by her?

"Now you will have something to look at when we are in bed," Hades whispered, putting his hand on the small of her back and pulling her in close to him.

"Indeed we will," Persephone sighed. She still gazed at the diamond stars.


	15. In Which Happiness Is Divided

_In Which Happiness is Divided_

The sea was cruel. The sky was cruel. But death? Death was merciful. It was kind. It was sweet release and relief. It took you away from the burden of living between the sky and the sea. Death was kind whereas the sea was brutal and the sky was angry.

Death was kind in a strange way. Mortals had spent centuries theorizing about it, how perplexing it was that something so cruel could be so kind, and Hades knew that mortals would spent millennia more still debating it.

And honestly, he didn't care.

He was a god. He was above such pettiness. He was above the thoughts that mortals would have, and even so, he had seen so many dead spirits that death had no meaning for him. Maybe it did, once, when the first dead spirits lay at his feet for him to collect and sort. But now? Nothing.

Persephone considered this all as she sat on his throne.

"Are you happy, wife?" Hades asked her, his voice carrying on the windless air.

Persephone considered the question for a time before answering. "I am happy in pieces. I can never be fully happy down here. I am from the Earth, the Goddess of Springtime. The flowers and grasses and trees are my happiness. But at the same time, my happiness is now split."

Hades tilted his head to the side. "Is a part of your happiness now down here with me?" he asked. His voice didn't betray him; he was hopeful but his voice remained steady and cool.

"Yes. I do believe so," Persephone said.


	16. In Which the River is Thick

_In Which the River is Thick_

Persephone reclined back on the chaise, staring up at the starry ceiling. Hades lay next to her, his fingers playing with her bright red hair. It was like a flame in the darkness, he thought. He ran his fingers through it, breathing deep the scent. Like every flower on earth, her hair a garden of perfume.

Persephone felt the chill of a shade near by, and pressed closer to Hades, eager for his warmth. He was nothing compared to the kiss of the sun, the radiance of Helios, but he was still like a waiting fire in this dark underworld she was starting to call home.

Hades sat up, looking the shade over.

"News?" he asked it. The shade made what looked to be a nod, and a slight murmuring sound from it's faceless form, and then exited the room, leaving Persephone and Hades reclined on the chaise.

Hades kissed Persephone on the forehead, and left her. "Work to be done, my wife," he said, and left the warmth of her embrace.

"What is it?" he demanded, once he entered the throne room.

Hecate bowed her head low, the hood of her cloak falling over her head. The shades all backed into the corners, looking like mere shadows. Thanatos, usually so fearless, cowered behind Hecate, glancing down at the ground. Hades took his throne and surveyed the small, dark court he held.

"News, Lord Hades," Thanatos said, his voice smooth and cold. "Charon reports that the rivers are thick. Thicker than usual. Souls are piling up on the banks, waiting to be ferried. This is like a war flood, except the mortals haven't any wars occurring."

"An unusual amount of dead?" Hades thought aloud. "If not war, then what is the cause?"

"We do not yet know," Hecate said. "I wished to see, but I wanted not to know. Such things are beyond me."

Hades sighed and shook his head. "Anything that concerns the dead concerns me, and thus you in turn. The underworld is mine, and you are a part of the underworld."

"I could leave if I wished," Hecate shot back.

"But you don't want to."

"I don't want to," Hecate confirmed. "I quite like it down here. The stars really help to liven up the darkness. And the flowers are quite lovely. This is the nicest the underworld's ever been...surely I wouldn't leave now."

"Look, then, Hecate," Hades told her. "What is the cause?"

Three heads grew from the goddess, her hood pulled down, and she blinked until her eyes were a vivid purple, and she looked and looked and looked. She saw, in the heavens, the underworld, and the earth itself. A name formed upon her lips.

"Demeter."

"I should have known."

They all turned to see Persephone in the doorway. A flower crown of asphodels was around her head, and a black chiton covering her. Bare feet silent upon the floor made their way to the edge of the court, and then into the center. She looked like a goddess of the underworld in every right. "My mother is the cause of death, is she not?" Persephone asked.

Hecate's three heads nodded in unison.

"Strange that a harvest goddess could cause such destruction," Thanatos remarked.

"Not at all," Persephone told him. "The mortals rely on their harvest. It gives them food...mortals need to eat, this I know. Without the harvest, they starve, and when they starve they die."

Hades shifted uncomfortably. He was expecting some type of wrath to come from Demeter, but he had not expected that the mortals would suffer for their marriage.

"What shall we do, Lord Hades?" Hecate asked, a single voice from a single head.

"We shall see," Hades said. His heart wasn't in the matter. He looked over at Persephone, with her golden bronze skin, her fiery red hair, her black clothes, her flower crown, and her eyes as clear as a summer sky. He wanted nothing more than to lay with her again, and by the sparkle in her eyes, he knew she desired the same.

"Court adjourned," he said, and stood abruptly. He and Persephone made their way back to the chaise.


	17. In Which Hecate Loves Persephone

_In Which Hecate Loves Persephone_

"If she asks, I will tell her," Hecate says.

Persephone is at her heels, asking her what she will tell Demeter. Persephone knows her mother, better than another in any of the realms, and she knows that her mother is stubborn and vindictive. Kind and caring, but not soft-hearted.

"But please," Persephone says to her, grabbing Hecate by the shoulder and spinning her around to look at her. Purple eyes met blue, and Hecate looked into them…deep deep into them.

"Please what?" she asked.

"Please, if my mother asks, tell her that I am well. Tell her that I am happy…and not a divided sort of happy, but rather a happy that encompasses a whole." Persephone bit her lip as she waited for Hecate's retort.

"If she asks, I will tell her," Hecate repeats, a soft smile on her face. At this, Persephone visibly relaxed.

"But," Hecate continues, making Persephone worry again, "she may not find me so helpful."

"Why ever not?" Persephone asks her.

"I know your mother…I know her very well. I know how she can be, just as you know. If she knows that you are in the Underworld…let alone married…her wrath will be heightened. She will demand your return. This I know to be true." She paused and thought for a minute. Slowly she began to walk again, her feet carrying her towards a waiting Charon.

"Surely Helios saw you taken," Hecate mused. "I know I did, for the moon was always looking. Even the darkened new moon is still a moon."

Persephone saw Charon up ahead, cloak pulled over his face and his rowing stick clasped in his thin hands. She knew him vaguely. She had gifted him with a golden flower to row her across the river to return Hades's whispering flowers. He kept it, she knew, and he had it hidden somewhere up his sleeve most likely. No flower had been finer.

"She calls for you?" Persephone asked Hecate. "You need not even go…"

"She will want answers, and Hades wants a steady stream of souls instead of a rushing river. I will satiate them both."

Persephone nodded in understanding. "But please, she told Hecate, one last time before she boarded the ferry. "Do not tell her that I am here. Try to leave it out as much as possible. Dance and skirt around the implication. I wish to remain here, and I know my mother will demand me back."

"I will do as best as I can my queen," Hecate said, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "If only because you asked so nicely." A smile graced Hecate's lips, and then she boarded the ferry, and Charon was off.

So lovely a queen, Hecate thought to herself, listening to the lapping of water up against the wood of the boat. Hades has taken a fine bride indeed.

"Will you honestly tell Demeter? Or Zeus? Or any of them?" Charon asked her, once they were well into the river.

"I will tell Demeter to consult Helios."

"The sun god?" Charon asked. "But wasn't Persephone taken at night."

Hecate turned and smirked at him. "She was indeed."


	18. In Which Bridal Gifts are Given

_In Which Bridal Gifts are Given_

Persephone sat upon her throne, carved from the stone of the caverns and inlaid with leaves of gold and silver and studded with amethyst. It was shaped vaguely as a narcissus and was just as large as Hades's. It sat bordered on the circular dais in the center of the room, and Persephone took her seat upon it.

She felt powerful, comfortable. This may not have been the earth and there may not have been any signs of spring down in the dark, deep underworld, but she felt like she belonged all the same.

Hades took his seat next to her.

"Queen of the Underworld, Queen Persephone," he said, and she heard the sentiment repeated a million times, in whispers so quiet they were nothing more than a breeze in her ears. The shades, the lost souls, the flowers, the servants, the sentient everywhere repeated the whisper. Queen Persephone. Goddess of Springtime, Queen of the Underworld.

"We have bridal gifts, Queen Persephone," Hades told her, a slight smile on his face.

"Bridal gifts?" she asked, clearly confused.

"Yes," Hades replied. "It is customary for a bride to receive bridal gifts. We may already be married, and the marriage consummated, but bridal gifts must be given. Such is the rules we abide by." Hades looked over to see Hecate, Thanatos, Hypnos, Charon, and even Atropos, all standing by the dais, heads unbowed and staring at Persephone.

"You first, my Lord," Thanatos said, a smirk on his face.

Hades nodded, and from his robes he pulled a golden crown. A laurel made out of spun gold and silver and celestial bronze, studded with diamonds and rubies, and laced with the scent of flower petals. He placed it on her head, atop the fiery red locks that framed her face and proclaimed, "My bridal gift to you: a crown fit for a Queen. The realm of Hades, now shared, the diamonds and gold that survives underneath, the gardens of my palace, and the souls of the dead."

Persephone smiled and lightly touched the crown on her head.

Hecate stepped forward. "My gift, now," she demanded, approaching Persephone with a spring in her step. She drew back her hood, purple eyes staring straight at the new queen and new bride, and did nothing more than look at her for a long time.

Hades coughed and said, "Hecate."

"Right." Hecate drew back, and held her hand out to Persephone. It was empty. "My gifts to you," she said quietly. Hecate put her hand to Persephone's forehead, and Persephone felt magic slipping inside her body. "Golden eyes, for which you can freeze an enemy. You will always have the power of the underworld within your eyes," she said.

Then she drew a necklace from her sleeve. It was a moonstone, carved and polished and glinting with otherworldly power. "A piece of the moon for you to wear around your neck, for Artemis and I will always welcome another goddess."

Hecate then took a pinch of Persephone's hair, cut it off with her knife-like glare, and held the severed red hair in her palms. It started to smolder and kindle until the red hair turned into flame, and she handed it back to Persephone. Persephone held the small, flickering flame in her palm, unsure what to do with it.

"And a fire to keep you warm. Put it in a hearth by your bed, and you'll find the blessings of Hestia there. Never will you be cold again."

"Thank you, Hecate," Persephone said, smiling at her. The Goddess of Magic bowed and smiled, then pulled her hood back up over her head and retreated.

Charon then approached.

He was empty handed, but when a simply beckon, a shadow stepped up behind him carrying a big chest. It thudded to the ground, and Persephone heard a metallic rattle. "My gift to you-" the top of the chest opened, "-ten thousand golden drachma. A dowry that you both shall need."

Charon and the shadow left then, back to work on the ferry. They couldn't be away from the river long; dead souls were forever piling up, always needing to be taken across. Charon could already feel the work piling up when he left.

Persephone looked at the golden drachma for a long time, Hades by her side, before they closed the lid of the chest and pulled it in between their two thrones.

Thanatos shifted uncomfortably next to his twin, so Hypnos had to grab him roughly by the arm and pull them both over to Hades and Persephone. They both bowed, leaning forward only slightly.

"We have with us-" a vase appeared out of nowhere, "-all the poppy seeds in the world."

"Poppy seeds?" Hades asked, leaning forward on his throne.

"This is no light gift," Thanatos said. "Poppy flowers are of the utmost significance to us. We might have well cut out our own hearts and given them to Persephone. And if not our hearts, then our wings."

"My twin speaks the trust," said Hypnos. "Poppy seeds are better than drachmas."

"I thank you for them," Persephone said, and took the vase from them. It was heavy, being burdened with billions of poppy seeds. She set it down next to the chest of drachmas.

"A suiting gift for the Goddess of Flowers," Hypnos said, and then turned to leave, going back into his own domain. Thanatos followed.

"Poppies will not grow without them to plant it," Hades thought aloud.

"Nothing will grow on Earth as it is," Hecate replied. "Demeter still refuses to let the harvest grow. She refuses to let anything on Earth flower. Not until you return to the Earth above."

Persephone sighed.

"Do not despair," Hecate told Persephone. "She seeks the aid of Helios, even now."

"But surely Helios knows as well," Persephone said, "that I am not on Earth."

"Perhaps," Hecate nodded. "But as he searches, your mother hopes. Even if for a few fleeting moments. Her rage is calmed by knowing that she is being helped. Aid often makes even the most hateful of wraths subside, if only for a little while."

Persephone said nothing.

"Atropos," Hades said, eager to change the topic of conversation. "What have you for my bride?"

Atropos stepped forward, and everyone held their breath. When she spoke, her voice was metallic and deep, and yet carried a sing-song lilt when her words came free from her. "My sisters could not be here. I am. I've been cutting too many threads."

Her words rang through the palace. The air vibrated with her words even after the silence had returned. Persephone shivered, as if she could feel Atropos's words on her skin.

"Is your presence the gift?" Persephone asked her. "Without you to cut the thread, a temporary delay in death for the starving mortals?"

Atropos shook her head.

"No, Persephone, that is not my gift." Atropos reached into her chiton, and pulled a pair of scissors free. The sharp edges glinted in the little light that was there. Everyone held their breath, wondering what she was going to do.

Atropos strode forward, and with her shears, cut a lock of Persephone's hair from her. Persephone thought, for a fleeting second, that she might turn her cut hair into fire like Hecate had, but she knew that that was unlikely.

Atropos then retreated. "Your gift," she said, tucking her scissors and Persephone's hair into her chiton.

"How is that a gift?" Persephone dared to ask.

"You shall see," Atropos said, and then left the palace to go rejoin her sisters.


	19. In Which Gold is Planted

_In Which Gold is Planted_

Persephone opened up the chest with a loud creak. The heaps of glittering gold drachmas met her eyes, shining even in the glum darkness of the Underworld. She was alone, Hades in his office slumped over official scrolls, Hecate again on the surface trying to both pacify her mother and keep Persephone's true location hidden.

Thanatos was…somewhere. She didn't know, but she didn't really seek him out. As for his brother, she knew where he was, and she didn't care to go visit him. And all the others…they were off doing their duties. Official work or official posts, or anything at all.

The only company Persephone had was the shades, the shadowy figures that served her, and they couldn't really count. Their voices were whispers, but it made no sense. It was like the wind, speaking gibberish, and so faint that you could only hear it when the leaves rustled. And they resided away from her, in the shadowy corners, waiting for her to call to them.

Charon had said that it was a dowry that they would both need, and Persephone believed him on that matter. They were married, but often a bride needs a dowry. A bridegroom ought to have a dowry too.

But still, three years had passed and still there had been no need for the dowry. Persephone was Queen, the Underworld her second home, her place secured. She had servants, she had friends. Hecate and her were as close as sisters, almost. She loved Hecate just as she had loved Artemis, and Athena, and all those nymphs who surrounded her.

Persephone dipped her hand into the chest of gold drachmas, feeling the coins with a slow hand. They were cold against her skin, and she shivered despite herself. It had been a long time since she had felt the sun on her skin. She brought her hand up and gold was piled on her palm, a few of the coins falling free from her hand and landing with a metallic clink.

She shivered again.

"Shades," Persephone said, standing abruptly. They were by her side in an instant. "Carry the chest out to the garden," she commanded them. They obeyed. Two took the chest and Persephone followed behind them, her mind abuzz with memories of the Earth.

She really did miss it. No matter how kind Hecate, or how loving Hades, or how beautiful the fake stars, she missed the Earth. Even nymphs whom she could not remember names of were now in her mind, and it tugged on her heartstrings. She knew that she would have to go back, or else the ache in her heart would become far too great.

She would see her mother then, and hopefully that would put an end to the famine she caused. The death of so many mortals was beginning to affect the gods, whether they liked it or not.

Aphrodite was cross, Hecate said. Hardly anything beautiful on the Earth anymore, Hecate had told to Persephone. No women to seduce, no men to seduce, no mortal to bless, no festivals in her honor, no worshippers at her temple, no prostitutes who were still able to make a living. The famine was eating away at them.

Hera had been growing displeased as well, Hecate had told Persephone. No more weddings, no more marriages. No sacrifices, no festivals in her honor, no worshippers at her temple.

"But Demeter," Hecate had told her, one night while the two of them sat by the hearth, "so many mortals are at her shrine. They pray and pray and pray. 'Give us a harvest,' they beg her. 'We need the harvest. We need the food. We are dying without our fields to plow. Great Demeter, we beseech you, give us fertile crops to sow.' And Demeter, she does not listen. Her temples overflow with the hungry and desperate, and still she neglects her duties."

Persephone nodded. Her eyes lingered on the fire, thinking. "And what of Hestia?" Persephone asked Hecate.

"She is doing well. But then again, she rarely needs sacrifices. She isn't as vain as the others. Rarely does she have festivals and sacrifices. In fact, last time I saw her, it was in the flames. She spoke to me. She has had many prayers to her, despite no one in her few temples. People at home sit at the hearth starving, and they whisper their prayers to Hestia, and Hestia is able to give them warmth in the cold of winter."

Persephone nodded again.

Now, as Persephone watched as the shades placed the chest of drachmas on the fertile black soil of the gardens, she thought over what she and Hecate had discussed back then. It was another reason for her to go back to the Earth. So many mortals died, and to think she was the cause of it.

Granted, as a goddess, she did not think much of mortals. No god really did. They simple were. Just as mortals paid no attention ants, and yet depended on them for so much.

"Open the chest," Persephone told the shades.

The chest creaked open and there were the golden drachmas, illuminating the darkness with a supernatural gleam. Persephone stooped to pick one up. She turned the drachma in her hand, looking at the fine inscriptions. The carvings were crude by divine standards. Hephaestus did finer work, when he did bother to carve designs.

"I wonder how he is handling the mortal deaths," Persephone wondered aloud.

The shades never answered her.

Bending to the ground, Persephone parted the black soil and planted the golden drachma in the ground. She covered the drachma with the soil again, patting it down and letting her power flow out of her. With her focus, a tiny golden vine appeared out of the ground, growing and thickening, leaves and shoots sprouting from the initial root, until a bud of petals crowned the top and then opened up wide to display the golden face of a new flower.

"A beautiful flower," Persephone heard a voice behind her say. She knew it by heart.

"Hades," she whispered, a smile touching her lips.

He knelt down next to her in the soil, before sitting down and leaning back on his hands in front of her. "The judgements have been finished for today. Now you and I have hours to spend together." He smiled brightly at her; a warm smile that was unbefitting of a lord of the dead.

Persephone wanted nothing more than to crawl on top of him and have him take her right then and there. But she remained kneeling in front of the flowered drachma. Hades could see it in her eyes, though, and he put a hand on her cheek. Persephone breathed deep the scent of earth and the perfume of flowers that clung to his hand. She pushed into his embrace, and then laid herself down on top of him.

"Is that what you plan to do with our dowry?" Hades asked her. "Plant them all and turn them into flowers?"

"I don't see why not," she replied. Her fingers stroked the fine black wool of his tunic. "They are still made out of gold."

"And now they are a thousand times more beautiful," Hades replied. A blush darkened Persephone's cheeks. "But their beauty still dulls in comparison to yours."

Persephone kissed him, a chaste kiss on the lips that lasted only for a second before she pulled back.

"Do you plan on planting them all?" Hades asked her, looking at the big chest overspilling with coins.

"Yes, I do," Persephone replied. Her eyes drifted over to the chest, and slowly she tried to judge how long it would take her to plant ten thousand coins. An hour or so, she thought to herself. Not long, at least in comparison to the time she had to spend with him.

"I will be with you shortly," Persephone told him, kissing his forehead.

"I'll wait," Hades said, standing up and heading over to the stone wall of the palace. "Would you like help?" he asked her, watching as she moved the soil apart with her hands and plant the drachmas in the underworld's ground.

Persephone shook her head.

In less than an hour, the eastern side of the garden was filled with flowers of pure gold, all bursting up from the black soil and glittering in the faint, waning light. Persephone sat amongst the gold petals, fingers traveling over them softly.

"Beautiful," Hades whispered behind her.


	20. In Which Demeter Searches

_In Which Demeter Searches_

The air was cold around her. Her fingers felt stiff and numb and she didn't care. She carried on with her search. She had searched the forests and the mountains, the beaches and rivers, the glades and groves, meadows and streams, even the mortal dwellings such as towns and cities and even small villages. So far, she saw her daughter no where.

So caught up in her search was she, that she paid no attention to her harvest duties. The earth was starting to grow cold, and plants withered, and flowers wilted and died. She did not care. Demeter's only care was to find Persephone.

Hecate had come to her, imploring her to look to Helios for advice. She had gone, asking him if he had seen where her daughter had gone. Helios had only shook his head. "I see all that happens by light of day," he said. "Even in the shadows, I bear witness to all on Earth. I did not see Persephone, and still I do not see her. In the night must have been her disappearance."

Demeter's heart fell at his words. She did not know where her daughter was, and if all-seeing Helios did not know, then perhaps no one would. She went to Apollo next, the smaller little sun god who followed in Helios's footsteps, and she stooped to bow and ask him if he had seen her daughter.

"No, Demeter, I don't believe I have," he said. "But I will keep a lookout," he added, his face cracking into a wide smile.

Demeter stepped up to him, puffing out her chest, and glaring down at him. "I implore you to remember that you are not to come too close to Kore. I know you Apollo." Apollo said nothing, but he didn't show an ounce of fear. "If you see Kore, tell me immediately," Demeter said, and then left him. Around Apollo's temple, all the offerings and flowers and grasses withered and died and decayed. Even the offerings of gold dulled, rotting away to a murky yellow and looking like shriveled dead lemons.

Demeter continued her search. Rhea and Gaia answered her questions vaguely, and Demeter didn't know whether they knew and were purposely trying to mislead her or if they simply had no idea and they were trying to make themselves sound wiser.

"Gaia," Demeter said, crouching low on the marble floor of the abandoned temple that was Gaia's favorite. "Gaia, I beseech you, speak to me. My daughter is gone and missing, and I do not know where she has been spirited away to. My heart grows frail and my skin chills. The Earth is not mine alone, I know this; please tell me where to find my beloved Kore."

Gaia was both young and ancient, constantly being reborn but never forgetting. Her face was soft and sun-kissed, and there were laugh lines around her lips and crow's feet around her eyes. Her hair was soft and long, and bound up in a braided bun around her head.

"Rise, Demeter," Gaia said. "We are both goddesses of the Earth, we need not bow to one another. Kindred spirits such as us should not be bound by such formalities."

Demeter stood tall again.

Gaia sighed, and went to sit on the stone steps that lead to the altars. Demeter followed and sit next to her. Gaia took Demeter's hand in her own, and spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. "I do not know where Kore is, but I know she is not on Earth. Just as you had expected. I can feel the lack of her presence, the flower seeds dormant under the soft soil. Soil that is hardening."

Gaia clutched Demeter's hand in hers, nearly crushing the bones together. "Demeter, I know that your daughter is your number one concern, but you are neglecting your duties. The harvest won't grow, the plants are withering, life on this Earth is wasting away. Rhea and I can only do so much. When the Olympians came to power, most of Earth's life burden came to you. It rests on your shoulders; you must be the one to set this right."

Demeter pulled her hand away from Gaia and stood to leave. "I know that most of the power lies within me, but until I find my beloved Kore, I will do nothing else but search for her. Bring her to me, let me look upon her face again, and the crops will grow and the soil will unfreeze."

She left Gaia in her temple.

Rhea wasn't much different. "I cannot sense her either. I feel the Earth, from every corner, from every reach of the known world and the unknown world. Earth no longer holds Kore." Demeter pursed her lips together, trying to contain her worry and anger. "If she is not on Earth, there are other realms you can search. The sky, the sea, the underworld. None of those are Earth; surely Kore must be in one of them."

Demeter shuddered, imagining her Kore near any one of those realms. She kept her on Earth to keep her safe, so that she could keep an eye on her, to protect her from the gods that governed the other realms. Zeus she hated, Poseidon even more than him. And Hades…

She would not even dare to think his name.

Of all the gods and goddesses in the entire world, few other matched the horror of his name. The Titans were the only ones who were even more terrifying, but she knew that they were locked deep deep deep within the bowels of Tartarus and had no chance of influencing anything ever again.

"I can understand your fear. Zeus and Poseidon are both horrible men, and should probably be cast into Tartarus with the others. But Demeter, I know Kore personally. She is clever, quick… Have hope in your heart."

Tears started streaking down Demeter's face. She couldn't even bear the thought of Kore close to either of them. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades… How she hated them all. But she had to be brave, be strong…

Kore needed her.

"I'll–" her voice cracked, "I'll go to Zeus first. He–he might–might–"

She couldn't speak anymore, the tears were coming to fast. Kore was somewhere, she knew, and somewhere dangerous. She swore, that if anyone dared to put their hands on her, she would cut off their hands and sprinkle the Earth with their bloody ichor, and then eat the flesh off their bones.

Rhea chuckled behind her. Demeter whipped her head around, wondering what could possibly be so damned funny.

Rhea only shook her head. "I know what you're thinking. And I wouldn't stop you…in fact I would watch with a smile on my face. The way sons treat their mothers is truly despicable. And the way my sons are…I have often imagined doing similar to them. But I promised myself to protect them, from the Tyrant, and from my wrath as well."

Rhea stepped into the surrounding trees. With that, she was gone, the brown leaves soon cloaking her and masking her from sight and thought.

Demeter cried harder. The sky, the sea, the underworld… All those realms were so vast and overwhelming. They all dwarfed the Earth, and Demeter could only imagine her daughter lost and searching for a way back to her bright green fields.

She put a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs, but it was no good.


End file.
